


Crack in the Mirror

by Cup_aTea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU: fusion, As you do, Brandt and Barton are twins, Gen, Trope Bingo Round 2, Trope: AU Fusion, Trope: mind control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_aTea/pseuds/Cup_aTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Brandt wakes in the middle of the night.  The apartment is quiet now, but something had disturbed his sleep.  The air is too still.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Short piece written for Trope Bingo Round 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for Trope Bingo Round 2. (Because I'm clearly crazy) I'm working on a simultaneous double line bingo. This is for my AU: Fusion + Mind Control spot.

 

 

Brandt wakes in the middle of the night.  The apartment is quiet now, but something had disturbed his sleep.  The air is too still.  He’s clearly been behind an analyst’s desk too long because when the apartment creaks a second time, he’s a moment too late to grab his gun.  Strong arms pin him to the bed, and somebody else frisks him.  His hands are secured in behind him and then he’s manhandled around.  The breath goes out of him like he’s caught a fist to the gut.  Ethan is standing there and next to him is Brandt’s twin brother.  They look at him like he’s not there, and when he catches a glimpse of their eyes in the dim light of the window, they look too light, too clear.  The two men march him out to the living area, and while Brandt doesn’t exactly go easily, he doesn’t fight either. 

 

One of the lamps next to sofa is lit.  A dark haired man is sitting there, paging carelessly through Will’s latest Forbes magazine.  He rises when the three men enter the room.

 

If the situation weren’t so deadly fucking serious, Brandt would laugh.  The man’s wearing a full Renaissance Faire ensemble: lots of interwoven leather, gauntlets to the elbows, and a strap across his chest inscribed with a crest.  Will’s eyes widen as he realizes that the man’s holding a glowing—yes, _glowing_ —ornamented spear in his right hand.  Not that the business end looks particularly ornamental at all.

 

The man actually tips his head back to laugh as he takes in the sight of Will.

 

“Well, my Hawk.  It seems the glimpses I caught inside your mind weren’t mistaken.  He is your mirror image.” 

 

The dark haired man stalks forward and begins to circle round them.  His voice is light and lilting, and it sends a chill down Brandt’s spine.  While he’s tracking the path of the stranger, Will accidently catches his brother’s eye, and what he sees there chills him further.  Clint’s eyes are an icy, electric blue, instead of their usual warm hazel.  A glance to the left confirms that Ethan’s are the same.

 

Something is more wrong than Will can guess.

 

The man stalks around to the front of them once more, and he steps close to Will.

 

“William Brandt,” he jeers.  “Chief Analyst for the Impossible Missions Force, _some-time_ field agent.  Your brother tells me you’re the smart one,” he continues, eyes flicking to the side, “as does your file.  Barton and Hunt have convinced me that you could be of use to us.  I’m not as certain as they, however.  Clearly, you’re not as stout-hearted as your brother, are you _William?_   Always running from your problems.  You didn’t even reveal yourself to Ethan under duress—not until the last possible moment.  …That could be problematic.”

 

“What do you want?” Brandt asks roughly.

 

“The world, Agent Brandt, nothing less.”  The man’s face splits in a grin and Brandt holds himself steady in the face of the madness he sees there.  The smile fades as the man reaches up to grasp Will’s chin.

 

“Would you like to join us, Agent Brandt?  Your brother and your friend have become my allies, and in return I grant their souls a true serenity.  Would you like your chance at the same?”

 

Will is shaking under the attention directed at him, but he barely notices it.  The man has stepped closer, till their faces are only a few inches apart.  His eyes are bright blue.  Brandt finds them almost hypnotic and he stares into them blankly for a few moments before he snaps out of it.  He shakes his head like he’s breaking through the surface of the water, spitting out, “Go to hell!”

 

He tries to lunge forward, but a backhand from the man sends him sagging into Hunt and Barton’s grasp.

 

“Very well,” the man snarls.  “You will kneel to me whether you wish it or not.  I am Loki, and _I am your god.”_

 

The man—Loki—is reaching out with the spear.  He presses it to Brandt’s chest, and Will groans at the searing burn.

 

And then everything goes very

 

very

 

blue.

 

\---

 

One week later, Washington D.C. is in shambles as Loki sits atop a monument that he’s claiming for his own.  The Helicarrier is floundering somewhere over the Mid-Atlantic, with half her crew dead or injured and only a matter of time before the rest of her engines fail.  The team of heroes SHIELD thought to assemble have been scattered on a merry chase, and here in Washington, Loki’s army of IMF agents is thick on the ground. 

 

Ethan Hunt and the Barton twins grin unrepentantly as they deliver the report.  Loki praises them for a job well done, before sinking back to contemplate his new dominion.  The future looks promising indeed.

 

 

 


End file.
